My voice dips low. “You and I both know nothing was going to happen to that guy unless he hurt her for real. I wasn’t going to wait around for that.”
“You’re supposed to call me for backup. Just like I wouldn’t hesitate to call you.”
Ah, hell. His point lands with precision, swamping me with guilt.
“Instead, you call Jack,” Silas grumbles.
I roll my eyes, pieces clicking into place. “He told you.”
Silas shakes his head. “He told me to check on you.”
“Same difference,” I mutter.
“Next time, don’t give him all the covert fun. I’d like to be involved.”
“There better not be a next time.” I study the photos in front of me again.
“There won’t be. Look at this.” Silas straightens and retrieves his phone.
He unlocks the screen and opens his text messages. Without a word, he presses play on a video clip and sets the phone in front of me on the desk.
The screen lights up with Lanighan sitting in a chair, face unblemished. A thick, black microphone is positioned on the table in front of him. The blue stuffed chair he occupies and the small walnut table beside him match the furnishings from his room at the motel, leaving no doubt about the setting.
Good afternoon, crime junkies. This is Jake coming to you live from a motel in Bumfuck Nowhere, Minnesota. I’ve been working hard to bring you the goods, but for now, don’t get too excited. I don’t have the best news.
“Where did you get this?” I ask distractedly, picking up the phone and pausing the video.
“Calloway sent it over this morning. He’s been combing old videos to learn more about this guy and his interest in Alice. Keep watching.”
Papers crinkle beneath my elbow as I return my attention to the screen.
As you know, I’ve been traveling across the country in another attempt to track down Alice Thompson. Yes,theAlice Thompson. For any of my new listeners out there, I’ll give you a quick refresh. Her brother, Devon Thompson, along with his accomplices Sheriff Ernest Farnsworth and local medical examiner Robert ‘Bobby’ McGinnis, faked his death in a desperate attempt to defraud his life insurance company in order to pay off significant debts owed to some very bad men. Ifyou recall, Devon drew national attention when he kidnapped his two children aged 3 and 1, leading local and state police on a manhunt across central Minnesota. He’s currently serving a hefty twenty-five-year sentence. Though I’ve heard your comments, and I have to agree. That sentence is way too harsh.*laughter*Anyway. I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I need to step back from this one for now. Take a look at my most recent interaction with Ms. Thompson.
The video cuts to another scene, this one outside. The camera shakes too hard to get a clear understanding of what I’m looking at, but then it settles.
Right on Alice in the grocery store parking lot.
The camera zooms in as she pushes her cart across the blacktop, until Lanighan forcibly stops her by blocking her cart. A swift fury rises in my chest as the video plays on, the clips short and choppy.
“I need to talk to you, Ms. Thompson.”
“Leave me alone.”
“You don’t understand. I’ve been trying to find you.”
“Because I am not interested! Leave me alone.”
The clip cuts to another angle, clearly edited.
“Are you recording me?”
“It’s for the show.”
Another cut.
“It doesn’t have to be like this. I just want you to tell your side of the story. I know you had a hand in your brother’s arrest. Your own mother was sent to jail because of you.”
The video abruptly returns to Lanighan in the motel room, an arrogant smirk on his face as he relaxes back in the blue chair and picks up the mic.